My heart belongs to the ocean.

My heart belongs to the ocean.

To the swell of the tide,
to the pull of the current.

My feet settle deep
into the softened, shifting sand
and she claims me,
as I have claimed her.

My heart belongs to the ocean.

I find my solace in the roar
of untamable waves
that could crush my bones
but caress my soul instead.

I find my home here,
among the dunes,
in the utter stillness of winter,
and in the warmth of summer sun.

My heart belongs to the ocean.

The calm in her chaos,
beauty in her threatening,
safety in her wild arms,
they are mine.

I Wait For You

Tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine.

Mine is ugly, and dark,

but maybe yours is too.

Mine is full of agony, pain, and frustration,

a tale of bloodied hands and battered hearts,

but maybe yours is too.
Mine still hurts when I tell it,

words of wounds that have yet to heal,

but maybe yours does too.

Share with me your pain, and I'll share with you mine.

Mine still keeps me up sometimes, 

but your weary eyes speak of the same troubles.

Mine tells me I'm unrepairable, 

but your heavy shoulders speak of the same despair.

Speak to me of the strength that you have found, and I will tell you of mine.

Mine puts my trials to shame, 

tell me yours does too.

Mine has turned it's face to see the light,
maybe yours has always seen it.
Mine is patient, ready to try again,
maybe yours is too.  

Late Night Life Lessons with Pabst and Sigur Ros

     Maybe it's the figuring out, over and over and over again.  Learning and relearning lessons that I already knew.  Or maybe it's the realization that nothing ever really changes, except me.

     Moving and shifting and growing and learning...  Changing this and running from him and chasing after her.   Running and running to escape the soiled, irreparable messes made, to catch up to that ever elusive, long awaited version of myself.  Am I running from something really terrible?  Am I chasing something truly worthwhile?  Does it matter?

     Only I matter.  My being, and my reason for being.  This life will be what I shape it into, a blurred collection of chaos and victimization, or a persistent existence fraught with intention and meaning.

It is what I want it to be.

It's purpose I'm running for.  It might be what's making me run, it might what I'm running towards...   Either way, it has me running.  The existence and the promise of purpose.  A life restricted by responsibility, ready to burst with opportunity.

It is what I make it.

So I'll make it something worthwhile, because it is.

Growing Up

I know you want to take my hand and guide me, to keep me from running too hard or too fast, or to save me from the scrapes and falls that you felt when you journeyed this road.  I can hear it in your voice, the pain you know so well, and the fear that I, too, might have to endure the same wounds and live with my own mistakes.  Nothing in me doubts that the things you do for me and say to me are out of the depths of your love for me.  I know that your heart aches with the heaviness of the pain and burdens that I carry.  Not because you carry them too, but because everything in you wishes that you could.  This child of yours knows how much you care.  Don't doubt that.

You should also know, though, that this child of yours has been raised well.  The anchor that you prompted me to invite into my heart so many years ago, is still here.  It's quiet now, though, and I often go long periods of time without hearing so much as a whisper.  And I'll admit that I sometimes try and forget it, as I let the hours and days and weeks and months slip through my fingers.  All this doesn't mean that I have forgotten it, though.  I don't think I ever could, it's too much a part of me.  What it does mean is that I can no longer sit under your direction and take your words at face value.  As close to my heart as you are, you don't speak it's language.  No one does.  Even if you could, what value would your words hold?  If I accepted every bit of wisdom you offered, with no questions or contemplation?  This isn't something you can teach me or explain to me.  This is my life, my heart, my soul, my responsibility.   You can continue to share your wisdom and concerns with me, and please do (Lord knows I need it), but when it's all said and done, this is between me and my maker.  I am going to make mistakes, just as I have done already, but I am going to learn from them.  I am going to get a little lost along the way, but I am convinced that every moment I spend, lost or on track, knee deep in mud or along a pristine path, will be used for good.

Pray for me, speak to me, slap me if you need to, but remember that you can't make me live any certain way, any more than you can live my life for me.  So please be patient with me as I fumble through this period of my life, and don't be discouraged when I stray off the path.  Just continue to remind me of the path that my heart will always yearn to take, and that it's always there, no matter how dirty I get.

I love you, with every bit of my sometimes discombobulated heart.

Don't give up on me.

There is no time for remorse

This is my life:
The mistakes I've made,
the acknowledgement of the damage they've caused,
and the freedom I felt when I moved past them.

This is my life:

The pain I've felt, 

the strength it's revealed in me,

and the healing I find in forgiveness.

This is my life:
The people I love,
the way they've shaped me,
and the beauty that they bring into my life.

This is my life:
The beauty I see,
in everything and everyone,
and the way it moves my heart.

This is my life:

The choices I've made, 

the good the bad and the ugly,

and the love I have for myself regardless.

Debts

They tell you so much about life,
what it means,
how to enjoy it.
A menu of forbidden fruits,
with no prices.
Eat, drink, let down your hair.
Nothing matters but satiating the lust that can never be appeased.
Yes, call it casual if it makes you feel better.
Your heart is still going to break,
your denial won't stop a single splinter.
They tell you hearts heal themselves.
They don't tell you that the pieces you give away will never find their way home again,
that the remnants of all you once were must go to pay the bill that you can never settle.

Happy 2011

Each new year holds an invigorating wealth of possibilities, and this year I feel it in my core.  Although 2010 certainly had it's highs, it was not my best year.  There are many words spoken and deeds done that I would be thrilled to take back...  Unfortunately life doesn't work that way, so instead I will resolve to keep from making the same mistakes twice.  2011 is another fresh start, and I will not mar this new chapter with last years rubbish.

In the year two thousand and eleven, I want to learn to...

....be content, but always look ahead.
....not give in to guilt trips.
....listen to and respond to my own needs and desires.
....never settle.
....challenge myself.
....act out of love, not obligation.
...say no.
....be open and honest.
....trust.
....let go of my regrets.
....love myself(faults, failures, and all).

Here goes nothin'...